Final Abroad Post

A friend once claimed that “there is only so much badness that can be crammed into an exam period.” Unfortunately, the 20 days of studying and examining at Trinity can best be described as a slow bleed, as opposed to the quick tearing of the band aid covering American’s week and a half.

As a result of the ever present threat of exams, much of my last few weeks in Dublin were spent trapped inside the prison cell of Goldsmith, with occasional jaunts to our library.

After returning from relaxing in Madrid, I had a week until my first exam: Ireland since 1900. A couple days were devoted to transcribing all my many class, tutorial, and reading notes onto cards. The tactic of memorizing a stack of 100 or so cards has served me well in the states, and so I hit my stride and started writing. In between writing and studying, I committed myself to running three miles a day, by taking laps around Saint Stephen’s Green. One day I saw a couple sheep and two lambs in front of Leinster House.

Breaking up the monotony of constant studying and even more constant watching of the West Wing and completing the three seasons of the ???, my friend Katherine arrived. She had been studying in Florence, and had toured Europe following exams. Dublin was her last stop, so after writing about the significance of World War One and De Valera’s Ireland, Sean and I took her to experience the Pav. That was the nature of Thursday through Saturday.

Katherine explored the city during the day, while I struggled to redouble my efforts on European Societies (another week between exams). At night we visited MacTorcaills and even Porterhouse once. On Saturday night, we watched as Jedward lost the Eurovision competition to a group from Azerbaijan.  Since we were not permitted guests during exams, Katherine and I had to be back before midnight each night. As a result, we watched the movies on my hard drive: Love Actually, Avatar, and Blue Harvest.

When she departed on Sunday morning, I returned my still divided attention to preparing for my next exam. So naturally I devoted sufficient attention to the Survivor: Redemption Island season finale, A Game of Thrones, How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family, The Middle, and the West Wing. Despite my procrastination, I managed three or more hours of studying per day. Which considering the length of time between exams, was not poor at all. A minor victory was achieved on Tuesday when I finished torturing my hand with the writing of note cards.

A more major victory was achieved by Ireland, as the Queen became the first British Monarch to visit the country in over 100 years. More than ten thousand security personnel flooded the city and erected various pedestrian barricades to ensure that Her Majesty would not interact with any of the fringe elements of Irish Republicanism. Beyond the poignancy of her visit, students at Trinity were less than enthused with the prospect of Red and Orange security zones on campus, a closed library on Tuesday, and not a few traffic disruptions when commuting to campus for exams. More important, she disrupted my laundry schedule.

More than 1500 pictures, in close to 4 minutes, documenting my months abroad

On Friday, in the Sports Centre, I wrote about European identity, the effect of welfare states on female labor market participation, and the decline of Multiculturalism. As with my first exam, the invigilators – the administrators with a name connoting Harry Potter villains – were in full force and keen to shout at any hint of talking when we should be filling out our booklets. Unlike Regent House, which hosted my history exam, the sports centre boasted several hundred students packed into neat rows. The closest comparison to an exam at Trinity is a standardized test like the SAT or ACT, but with far more participants and testing diversity.

That night we celebrated another Last Pint at MacTorcaills, which heralded the last few days before my return to Boston. While the following days I was focused on studying for Comparative Welfare States. At that point I had identified the perfect number of topics to revise. My essays focused on an evaluation of the Dutch welfare state, the importance of politics on retrenchment or restructuring decisions, and the coherence of Third Way policies. After completing that exam in Luce Upper – a basketball court - I joined up with Russell and Louise to celebrate with libations at the Pav.

After a few cans of Bavaria, four of us set out for Christ Church and the one access point for President Obama’s speech. Three hours later, and I arrived in front of a large screen 100 or so yards away from his address. Given the pace of walking and secret service security screening, just reaching that point seemed impossible when stuck in an endless line by Christ Church Cathedral. Still the flashbacks of the inauguration yielded to a series of performers – including Jedward – a fiery introduction by the often blasé Enda Kenny, and an excellent speech by President Obama on the intertwined histories of Ireland and the States. To win over an already electric audience, the President concluded with Yes We Can in Irish and English.

Once I watched the motorcade pass and saw Michelle Obama wave to my side of the street, I returned exhausted to Goldsmith and my unfinished packing. Dinner then gave way to a final last pint at MacTorcaills. Beyond the final drinks in Ireland with friends from the island and friends from the States, we ran into a girl who had just been in Ashland. The improbability of someone visiting Ashland and being in MacTorcaills, one of 700 pubs in Dublin, at the moment that I arrive at the bar, was astounding enough to push my transition back to the States one step further (all the flags for Obama helped too).

At 5am the next morning, I set out with John and Maggie for the airport. Fear of Icelandic ash led the most technologically advanced plane in the world, Air Force One, to whisk the President to England early, so we were not a little concerned that our planes would not leave the ground. As insurance, I had secured a spot in Russell’s apartment should the ash leave me homeless. Fortunately, my Air France shuttle left for Paris unhindered and soon I was in massive Charles de Gaulle airport waiting for my double-decker Boeing to take me to Boston.

Soon thereafter I took my seat 55B, the last seat on the left-hand side of the plane. Although not the preferred seat for a quick exit, the extra space to my left was welcomed (as no third seat could be fit).The flight was uneventful with marginally improved food as compared to my Delta flight a few months ago. No Strings Attached was a predictable and lackluster romantic comedy and I slept during Tron Legacy. Of note was my final two legal beers until August, a Phoenix from Mauritius and a Heineken with dinner. Eight hours leaving Paris at 1:35pm, we arrived at Logan Airport at 3:20pm.

After 4 months and 17 days, my study abroad experience ended.

For those who read this blog from the start to the finish, there are 36,065 words (not including this sentence).

Sunny Madrid

The last hurrah ended with a bloody nose on Aer Lingus. But the highlights of a several day trip to Madrid and the preceding days in Dublin must be attended to before describing the last minutes which marked the end of  a near carefree 3.5 week period before final exams.

Low key suffices as a euphemism for the days between my parent's visit to Ireland and my departure for Spain. With most American friends traveling, and Irish friends cramming for their full year's worth of exams, there was little to do in Dublin. 17 weeks prior had exhausted nearly every possible excursion. So the couple of us remaining took to watching online TV, lounging in the park, and movies or MacTorcaills at night. There could be no motivation to study, with a week after Madrid before my first exam, and another week after that before my next two.

The Thursday flight to Madrid was uneventful, though the Taxi driver who offered the same rate as AirCoach told a story of unknowingly chatting with Whitey Bulger's niece in a pub in Boston. Otherwise, Alex met me at the airport and we set out for Cat's Hostel - located in a refurbished 17th century palace. Since his abroad program secured him a home-stay, I needed the hostel for six nights. While he left for 10pm dinner, I met my roommate (one of seven) Thomas, a 26-year-old PhD student making his way to Israel to teach criminology for the summer. Together we grabbed some cheap pizza for dinner and awaited Alex's 11pm return to Puerta del Sol.

My 14-bed room (Saturday-Wednesday)

Many of the subsequent events will be left for friends to hear in person, but several comments on Madrid nightlife are possible. For one, meeting in Puerta del Sol is a must for anyone seeking pubs, bars, and clubs. It is the heart of city and fills with residents and tourists alike after 11pm. We met Alex and the other AU abroad students at the statue of the bear and strawberry tree (madrone) - the symbol of Madrid. Despite the illegality of drinking in public, we were immediately surrounded by determined entrepreneurs exchanging cans of Mahou - a Spanish beer - or a low quality German pilsner, for a euro or two euros for three.

Competing for our attention were numerous club promoters exchanging tickets for reduced entry or free drinks at their locales. A couple Irish pubs later and we would follow a few promoters around for the benefit of the cheapest drink or the lowest priced entry. Akin with their notorious cousins in South America, nightlife ends with daylight, and we returned to Cat's only after 5am.

Beyond its reputation for partying, Madrid offers three impressive art museums, a regal palace, and a few manicured parks. After a late start to the day, which followed an initially early wakeup for Cat's free breakfast of a hot drink, a croissant, donut, or bowl of cornflakes; and a cold drink, such as orange juice; Alex and I reconnected for lunch. Grabbing a three course, and affordable 6 euro meal at a nearby cerveceria, we headed into el Parque del Buen Retiro to eat alongside its rowboat-filled pond. Far larger than Saint Stephen's Green, the park offers numerous paths and ever-changing scenery, included a famed "Crystal" Palace and peacock sanctuary.

The Crystal Palace

Rather than pay for the Museo Nacional del Prado, renowned for its collection of classical artworks, we waited for its free entry hours between 6pm and 8pm. While relaxing outside I suffered the first of what became daily nosebleeds, perhaps due to the city's elevation or especially dry climate. After rushing past some stunned tourists and a couple security guards into the Prado's restroom, Alex and I set out for the nearby botanical gardens. For a nominal fee you are able to tour a pristine park with a wide range of flora. Its sights are only surpassed by the scale of Retiro and numerous classics of the Prado (although my senior year copy of a painting by El Greco was out on loan).

While Alex called it an early night to awake early for exam studying, Thomas and I linked up with a 28-year-old Indianan who took us on a rather unimpressive odyssey to a couple locations that his guide book proclaimed "top picks." Nevertheless, we too were looking for an earlier night than Thursday.

In the early afternoon on Saturday, Thomas and I visited the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, located near to the Prado and filled with a private collection of artwork stretching from the stone age to contemporary. Unfortunately, I failed to visit the entire gallery before leaving to reunite with Alex at Sol to explore Plaza Mayor, the Palacio Real (on a scale similar to Buckingham Palace), and a curious Egyptian Templo de Debod in a nearby park.

Shortly thereafter, we jumped aboard the extensive Metro system to arrive at Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, with a capacity of more than 80,000, to watch La Liga match between Real Madrid and Real Zaragoza. Even though our 40 euro seats were in the upper rafters along with many Zaragoza fans and the other AU students, our view from behind the goal line was sufficient to notice Madrid's lack of creativity in the first half and deserved 2-0 deficit early in the second. 

halftime at the Real Madrid match

While Ronaldo was not available due to an argument with Coach Mourinhou, a few other starters were benched in advance of the second leg Champion's League match with Barcelona in Catalonia on Tuesday. With three able to enter the pitch in the second half, Madrid came alive and narrowed the lead by one, only to allow glaring defensive errors permit a third Zaragoza goal against the run of play. A late Madrid goal narrowed the lead, but they were unable to finish a few opportunities that would have left them with a point at home. 

Following the match, and a cheap dinner of kebabs, Alex and I headed south to his neighborhood along the Rio Manzanares. Unlike other European cities, the river is not Madrid's focal point, and its nearby neighborhoods are traditionally less affluent. Its resident division one team Atlético Madrid plays in the smaller Estadio Vicente Calderón that abuts the rather unimpressive river. Despite its lack of width and depth, a recently opened park may revitalize the area as it hid main roads below ground with countless fountains, plants, architecturally stunning bridges, playgrounds, and a zip-line that Alex and I were content to use. 

Sunday marked a quieter morning and early afternoon before Alex, Thomas, and I headed to Plaza del Toros Monumental de las Ventas. Despite Alex's initial assumption, Thomas was able to purchase tickets near to ours (20.40 euro) and the other AU students. 

Bullfighting is ever a controversial event in Spain. That day our tickets permitted us to watch three matadors engage six bulls with the aid of several rodeo-clown-esque junior matadors and a couple lancers on heavily armored (and blindfolded) horses. Despite the common name, the event is less of a fight and more of an active enticement by the professionals to encourage the bull to charge about while the prick him and tire him out prior to the main matador's arrival on stage. The final combatant then proceeds with his brief dance followed by a expert stab that pierces the bull between the shoulders and strikes his heart. The event ends minutes later as the animal crumbles to the ground and is dragged off by a team of horses. 

At the Bull Fight (the shaded seats behind us are drastically more expensive)

During the matches we witnessed one matador get lightly trampled, a lancer knocked off his horse, and a bull refuse to succumb to his wounds - at one time shimmying a sword out of his back. While not necessarily any more humane, the Portuguese bullfights I witnessed in the Algarve in 2000 provided alternatives to the 6 repetitive matches, and include the more interesting final event of 10 men who wrestle the last bull. 

That night the three of us stayed in our hostel bar to celebrate with the Mario and Luigi-themed Welsh bachelor party (the groom was dressed as Peach) and our new Brazilian friend Fred, on "sabbatical" after completing his law degree, who we met at the bull fight. Little did we realize that Osama bin Laden would be killed shortly after we returned to sleep. 

Following breakfast, I scoured the internet to more about the successful operation (and to receive numerous state department travel advisories). While celebrating the death of any individual, no matter how repugnant, is a bit morbid, the closure that his death brings to families who suffered on 9/11 and a generation who came of age in its aftermath is evident in the spontaneous outpouring of emotion by my friends in DC who traveled to the White House to express their elation. 

For the rest of the day, I spent time with five Quinnipiac girls studying abroad in Cork who had moved into my now larger (and cheaper) 14-bed hostel room. In our travels around Puerta del Sol we stumbled across the parade commemorating the Spanish uprising against Napoleon and the famed churros con chocalate that apparently make the top-10 list for activities in Madrid. Meeting up later with Alex, he and I watched the new Game of Thrones episode and met Sara, a junior at a SUNY who had finished studying abroad in England a few days earlier. 

While the five girls attended the bull fight, only to leave in tears midway through, we discovered Museo del Jamon - the cheapest eatery in the city. After calamari and prosciutto sandwiches, we reunited with Fred and met Sane, a Korean-Canadian on vacation, and casually ended the night in Cat's bar. 

Fred, Sara, Sane, and I in Cat's basement bar

Full Madrid Album

Tuesday morning Fred, Sara, and I left for Plaza Mayor and the free New Europe walking tour of Madrid. Although our tour guide was at times out of it due to an obvious hangover, the three hours were fun for his humor and numerous factoids. During the tour, we learned that the tradition of hanging smoked ham is tied to the Inquisition to prove that you were Catholic, that the symbol of Madrid is that of a bear eating from the Strawberry tree, the only plant whose berries ferment on the stem; that the city boasts the Guinness Book of World Records oldest restaurant in the world. In addition, I stumbled across a crumpled 50 euro note on the ground (around 75 dollars!) and we were trapped in a brief but severe hail and rainstorm. 

Soon thereafter, Alex and I headed to Retiro to drink wine in the park to celebrate his completion of his first exam, and then were off to Sol to enjoy my first authentic Paella. From there we met Fred, Thomas, and Sane to visit an Irish pub to watch the Real Madrid and Barcelona match - which Barcelona won with apparent ease. Our night ended in a similar manner to Thursday, though an English nurse, who had joined us on our walking tour, assured me that my daily Spanish nosebleeds were nothing too serious and may only require cauterization if they continue when back in Ireland.

On Wednesday Sara and I said goodbye to Alex outside of the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia (only after checking out and cashing in an old towel for 5 euro since it looked like theirs), famous for its contemporary works including Picasso's Guernica and numerous paintings by Dali. After a last meal at Museo del Jamon, I set out for the airport and my return flight to Dublin. Although it was uneventful until the end, my sudden nosebleed upon landing surely gave some of my fellow travelers a story to tell as I rushed down the aisle to the bathroom and the able support of the Aer Lingus flight attendants. 

While I have not started studying for my first exam on May 12th. Today has been full with desperately needed laundry, grocery shopping, and rest. After all, I still have an unheard of seven days until the exam (after today).